Angel Soul
by Airrah11
Summary: The angel Mikaylia has walked the Earth since before Rome. She was the one to save her fallen brethren when they rose up to fight against the Almighty. Ever since Rome she has watched over her former lover, Abaddon, and her family. What happens when she must be born anew to save them all?
1. Chapter 1

Schuyler Van Alen sat in the luxerious leather fold out chairs the Comittee had provided for their prestigious inductees. She sat calmly with her hands folded neatly in her lap as she waited for the Comittee chair; Priscilla Dupont, to stand up to the redwood lecturn. Schuyler was highly uncomfortable, she felt terribly out-of-place in the meeting of the Elite.

Her blue-black hair and her smooth ivory skin made her stand out against the tan, platinum blonde crowd that was the Old Four Hundred. Schuyler fought the urge to bolt as the silvering Priscilla Dupont stepped up to the lecturn while smoothing her hands down her Michael Kors buisness suit. Schuyler felt akward in comparence what with her shaggy skirts, holey converse, and tattered grey hoody that covered her green shirt that covered a black turtleneck.

"Hello, everyone. I would like to formally welcome you all into the Comittee." Priscilla paused, and cast a welcoming smile at the crowd.

"This is the first meeting of the New York Blood Bank Comittee of the season, and we are all very proud to have you here." Priscilla went on to tell the crowd about charities they had worked with and founded.

"But helping our community is not all that the Comittee does," she said.

The crowd was silent, awaiting her next words patiently.

"Perhaps you have noticed certain changes in your bodies? How many have noticed blue streaks marring previously untarnished skin?" she asked the crowd.

Slowly three-fourths of the crowd raised their hands, Schuyler rubbing against her arms as she felt a chill come over her. Priscilla's words were odd and unnerving.

"How about odd daydreams? You dream of the past and it feels so real. Like you lived it? Have you taken a test that you just suddenly know the answers to?" The crowd seem more unnerved, hushed murmers travelling through them.

"Have you read from a textbook and found you can recite it aloud word-for-word almost unconsiously from a mere glance at the page? All of this is normal. We, all that are present and then some, are Blue Bloods. The _Sangre Azul_.

Murmers like "I knew I wasn't normal," or "Thank God, I thought I was crazy!" spread out through the crowd.

Even a boisterous gasp came from Rhiannon Van Horn, Duchesne's resident eccentric.

"Does this mean unicorns are real too?"

Schuyler was confused, she had noticed some of the changes, but that wasn't what bothered her. No, what bothered her was the nightmares. The nightmares that terrified her.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

In them bodies were strewn across a bloodstained battlefield. All, no matter the gender, were wearing roman armor. Wherever Schuyler looked she saw the bodies of people she knew from her waking world. Rhiannon. Dylan. Bliss. Priscilla. Cordelia. Mimi. Allegra. Charles. Jack.

All of them. Dead But their names weren't the ones that came to mind. Rhiel. Xypher. Priela. Seraphiel. Azrael. Gabriele. Michael. Abaddon. Their names meant something to her. They brought on strong feelings. Love. Betrayal. Hate. Curiosity. Resentment. Vengeance. Justice. Familiarity.

They were all young. In their teen years to mid-thirties. Except Bliss, she was always fairly younger. A child.

Schuyler felt a faint shiver on her back. The wings that were always there. Fluttering when she felt a strong emotion. She looked down at the bodies of Gabriele and Michael and heard her voice speak.

"You didn't keep your promise, but I _will_ keep mine."

Taking out an empty vial, Schuyler saw her hand reach down to cradle Gabrielle's head in her lap and put the vial up against her neck and cut into her neck with a dagger. Gabrielle's blood poured into the vial.

And so Schuyler repeated the action again and again with a cooler disposition.

Until she reached Abaddon.

Kneeling down, Schuyler leaned in close and heard her voice whisper to his corpse.

"Goodbye, my love."

Less than a second later her hand drew her dagger across his neck and blue blood poured into the glass vial.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Schuyler shook herself as a light sweat broke out over her skin. Her muscles clenched and her vision hazed. Schuyler felt herself struggle to stand, all the while Priscilla Dupont was telling her to sit down. Schuyler's knees began to shake and the last she remembered was collapsing on her knees before she blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

Mikaylia gained consiousness, waking from her bed of flowers at the base of a hollowed tree. Sunlight danced in and out of its branches and leaves, making her skin glow in its etheral kindle. A light breeze that tasted of honey and warm chestnuts, blew her golden hair against the bark of her beloved tree.

This was her 'peaceful place'. _Her_ paradise. The entertaining humans that created this plane called it Heaven. Kaylia just thought it was home. She had been born here as an Archangel. The only daughter of both Gabrielle and Michael; she was the angel of knowledge, war, and time.

Her urge to fight, to battle, always raged within her heart, but her knowledge kept her cool and almost always collected. Kaylia could spot anyone's weakness in the quickest of glimpses, and know how to dispose of them even quicker.

But it was rare to have need of her gifts here. Though she would be naïve to not know of Lucifer's resentment of Him. He who serves the Almighty is the one who resents him most. Ironic.

Kaylia stood and donned her silvery-grey robes that had been tailored to fit her form. Grabbing her sword, she strapped it to her waist before placing one dagger in its left arm sheath (it being her dominant sword arm), and another dagger in a thigh sheath that peaked through a leg slit in her robes.

Hanging on a tree limb was a gold and white cloak that billowed lightly in the breeeze. Pulling it on, Kaylia felt it cover her down to ankles, letting black stapped flats peak out.

Carefully, as to not disturb her hair, Kaylia pulled the cloak's hood to cover her head.

The air around her began to shake, disolve, and give way to the center of paradise. The air was white, the walls were white, the floor was white. Mist clung to Kaylia's ankles, making her appear to float as she ventured forward. The only color in the what-often-felt-desolate land were the cloaked figures, be they man or woman.

Their cloaks marked their status and alignment. Kaylia's cloak marked her closness to the Almighty, but her robes themselves were a silvery-grey, marking her a neutral power; neither dark nor light. Knowledge, Time, and War are neither good nor bad, they just were.

As she walked further she came across a set of golden gilded doors. Coming to a stop, Kaylia sent out a burst of raw power that made the far cloaked figures flinch. The doors gave way, opening before her. The room within was circular, surrounding a large circular table where seven others sat.

"You finally decide to grace us with your presence, I see." Michael voiced with annoyance.

"Of course, Father. I wouldn't miss the meeting that decided the fates of traitors." Kaylia gave a pointed look at Azrael and Abaddon.

"What?! You have no right to call my brother and I traitors! If we had not decided to re-align, you all would have been done for!" Azrael raged, clearly infurieated by Kaylia's words.

Kaylia took her seat calmly and an expression of deep thought came over her before she spoke. "Your power certainly helped us, but I believe we still would have triumphed against Lucifer. Keep in mind, Azrael, that it was not your power you relied so heavily upon, but mine."

Kaylia's expression softened as if in sleep, but her crystalline blue gaze began to glow, illuminating her pale skin.

Abbaddon stood from his seat next to Azrael and stood in front of Kaylia's where her body remained still, but relaxed. He bent down and looked into her eyes which had clouded over. A sudden sound burst from her lips like a paralyzed scream, then her mouth began to move quickly and kept gaining speed. At first the words were difficult to understand, but they were there at least. But as it gained speed, it became unrecognizable.

"She's communing." Abaddon stated.

"Of course she is. That is her job in case you didn't notice." Uriel said sarcasticlly, a cunning gleam in his eyes.

"Why aren't you communing? You are the Angel of Justice, are you not?" Metraton asked.

"She told me she would do it, as I had been one of those that had revolted. She feared I would make our punishment worse, I believe." Uriel responded.

Suddenly she ceased speaking. The cloudiness in Kaylia's eyes withered away. Kaylia blinked a coupl eof times and adjusted her position in her seat . Abbadon still stood before her. She looked into his eyes, which were a bloody crimson, and nodded.

"I need to speak with you for a moment, privately." she spoke with a cool disposition.

Standing, she smoothed her palms down her cloak, which had fallen open to reveal her robes and walked to the closed doors and walked out when they opened. Abaddon stayed beside her as they set an easy pace. For several moments they walked in silence.

"Why did you... revolt?" she asked softly.

"It was my sister's idea, she belived in the cause... until I convinced her to cease. But until then I had to follow her, she is my twin, and you know that." He sounded tired. So tired.

"You don't love her." It wasn't a question, but a cold, hard statement.

"That doesn't matter." he paused, "She loves me." 

"We could've-"

"We already tried, Skye. It's not enough. It was and never will be enough." Skye. He'd called her Skye. He hadn't called her that in years, it had been the name he had given her due to her eyes. He had said at one time that her eyes when angered looked like a stormy sky.

He had said it when he loved _her_.

Kaylia only nodded, looking down.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

They had come back into the meeting chamber. Kaylia sat back in her seat and sighed quietly, hands folded neatly on her lap.

"A decision has been reached." she stated, emotion not reaching her voice nor her eyes.

"Then what is it?" Michael demanded, annoyance edging his voice. Gabrielle repremanded her husband, "That is your daughter, not your slave, Michael." she said softly.

Kaylia, who had ignored Michael's outburst, sighed again.

"Exile."

"What?" Azrael eyes softened and looked almost hopeless.

"Exile. That is your punishment." she stated patiently to the Angel of Death.

"Could you not have done more?" Gabrielle paused and looked down, though it was clear that she was weeping, "For them?"

Michael, Pure of Heart, looked at his bondmate and pushed himself up using the table.

"You absolutely could have done more!" he shouted, his voice booming in the echoing halls.

"They deserve far worse. They helped murder those who were still faithful. Those who loved their bondsmates and families., Michael. They should've been sent to burn by out laws, but I provided them with a chance to earn redemption no matter how long. So no, I most likely could not have done better."

Seraphiel, the Angel of Song, mate to Metatron, spoke up. "We'll be Fallen?"

"No. Fallen are Angels who wish to expierience life among the humans. They go into exile willingly without getting their wings clipped. Usually thieir asked to leave. Most do." Kaylia corrected.

"You'll be Blue Bloods. Sangre Azul. You will be vampires. Reincarnated again and again till you achieve redemption in the eyes of the Almighty."

Seraphiel nodded, "That is all you can tell us, I take it."

"Yes. Any who fought with Lucifer and perhaps some others will fall at twilight."

"What do we take with us?" Gabrielle asked. Both Michael and Mikaylia turned to Gabrielle, "What?"

"All of us need our swords and a few trinkets perhaps." Metraton stated.

"I'm not leaving." Kaylia stated.

"What? Why not? The rest of us are, why not stay with the family?" Gabrielle asked.

"This is my home. I will not leave it just because you want to follow them into exile, Gabrielle. You may be my mother, and Gabrielle, but you have made it clear you don't truly care what happens to me." she stood, "I must take my leave."

The air began to shutter around her and gave way to her meadow. The soft, beautiful flowers had turned to a splintery darkness. Her tree had died, its broken shriveled leaves laying on her hollow bed. It was a statement. A statement of pain. _Her_ pain.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Mikaylia did as she said she would. She didn't leave, but she promised that when only she could help them, she would.

And she did. She made sure that when they all died at Rome, most would take down the Silver Bloods before they could be drained. When the time came and they had passed their first lives as Blue Bloods; on the battlefield, no less, she collected their souls and began the process again.


End file.
